Undressed by the Boss: Sheikh Boss, Hot Desert Nights / The Boss's Bedroom Agenda / Taken by the Maverick Millionaire. Nicola Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ better not get used to this,’ she said out loud. Coming determinedly to her senses, she reached up, removed the necklace and handed it back to him.

      ‘It doesn’t hurt to indulge in a little fantasy shopping once in a while.’

      ‘As long as you don’t confuse fantasy with reality,’ Casey agreed. As she watched Raffa replace the priceless jewels in their nest, Casey murmured, ‘I wonder who they are destined for?’

      Raffa’s sharp glance caught her out. For all her brave words about fantasy and reality, she had never been short of imagination.

      ‘You never know, I might want to keep them,’ she said, laughing to make light of it.

      ‘Then I’d better lock them away …’

      His gaze held hers for a moment. Was it possible to want a man so badly? Or to be so frightened of the consequences of those feelings?

      Raffa appeared not to notice these darker thoughts as he replaced the jewels in their velvet case. ‘Sapphires suit you,’ he said. ‘You should remember that. They’re the same colour as your eyes …’

      ‘Oh, I will,’ Casey assured him with a wry smile. ‘Next time I go jewellery-shopping I’ll put sapphires at the top of my list.’ She was deadpan. They really did inhabit different worlds.

      Raffa smiled too. His was more of an eyes glinting, tongue in cheek kind of smile. So he did have a sense of humour. ‘Do you have jewels in every colour?’ she asked in a posh voice, acting the customer and trying not to giggle.

      It backfired on her. Raffa took hold of her hands in a firm grasp. She gulped as she stared at his strong hands resting over hers and felt a terrible yearning inside her.

      ‘Hold your hands like this …’ He formed her hands into a supplicant’s bowl. ‘Ready?’

      She nodded stiffly as he steadied his amused gaze on her. ‘Ready,’ she whispered hoarsely.

      Picking up a drawstring bag, he loosened the cord and tipped a heap of polished gemstones into her hands. There was every colour imaginable.

      ‘And these are what I’ve got to sell? I really am going to need some help.’ She was already frowning as she thought about where to find the appropriate experts.

      ‘If you can’t do it—’

      ‘I can do it.’ She met Raffa’s gaze and saw that it had changed. There was no warmth now; just rigorous expectation. ‘I’ll find who I need to help me with current market valuations. I’ll be fine,’ she said firmly. ‘My only concern is that wherever I have to sell these there must be a secure environment in which to display them and for my staff to work.’

      ‘You can leave that to me,’ Raffa told her. ‘Anything else?’

      ‘Other than that, I see my only problem being moving stock quickly enough to satisfy your demands and—’

      ‘Wrong,’ Raffa interrupted. ‘I don’t expect you to sell them.’

      Casey frowned, waiting for an explanation, hoping it wouldn’t be too long coming, so she didn’t have to keep on staring at Raffa’s fiercely handsome face. ‘Can you explain?’

      ‘You’re going to auction them,’ he said.

      Casey sat back, stunned, her head swimming with insecurity. She was a businesswoman, yes, but she was a backroom girl, not an extrovert. She stood no chance of whipping up a sophisticated crowd into a buying frenzy.

      ‘Your task is to do this at a charity event that means a lot to me,’ Raffa explained.

      ‘And the event is …?’

      ‘A grand ball in three days’ time to honour my …’ His lips tugged.

      ‘Your recent coronation?’ Casey suggested.

      Raffa’s lips pressed down wryly. ‘You can call it what you want. The main thing is that the charity benefits on the night.’

      But for all his dismissive talk she saw his gaze grow serious; there was a vision for his country in his eyes.

      ‘The money will go to help my Bedouin communities.’

      ‘Please tell me about them,’ she said, as he hit on the one topic that enthused her most of all.

      ‘They are a travelling people, and we provide them with flying ambulances, travelling teachers, medical facilities …’

      Not surprisingly, she was instantly sold on the idea of raising money for this worthy cause at the auction, and as Raffa continued to explain she knew he wasn’t a king in name only, but a leader—a man who was modest in the midst of excess, a man whose first thought would always be for his people.

      ‘This auction …’ Casey’s mouth dried when she thought about the responsibility Raffa had given her. He couldn’t know how terrified she would be, standing up in front of the sort of people who would be attending such a royal event. But if this was a test she must approach it like any other, and she had the most worthy cause to fight for; that should give her courage. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she said.

      ‘Don’t let our Bedouin down,’ he said. ‘We’ll all be relying on you to raise as much money as you can.’

      She grew serious as she thought about it. ‘There’s a lot of product here, as well as in the warehouse. How long do I have?’ She grimaced, thinking about the logistics of moving so many items off the shelf.

      ‘If you’re in any doubt, you should pull out now.’

      The incredible sums of money involved did worry her—if only because she had never been involved in anything like this before. But, remembering the fabulous amount paid for that licence plate, she knew there were riches in A’Qaban. She also knew people became donation-exhausted after a while, however wealthy they were. She would have to be innovative if the fund was to reach its potential.

      ‘What are you thinking?’ Raffa prompted.

      ‘That I can’t hold this auction the usual way.’

      ‘How many ways are there to conduct an auction?’

      Before she could answer he moved his chair back—impatiently, she thought. He snapped the catches on the suitcase containing the jewels, he locked it again before returning it to the safe. And then, as she might have predicted, instead of coming to sit down, he started to prowl up and down the small room.

      She was on a knife edge, Casey realised. She must convince Raffa she could do this. He might have thrown her a curve ball, that she had no intention of dropping it.

      She stood too. Unfortunately, even drawn to her full height she barely reached Raffa’s shoulder. He stood watching her with his eyes narrowed and keen, like a sleek black panther with a thorn in its paw. The thought of soothing him by touching his arm was a giant step too far, and so instead she stood stiffly to attention. ‘You can rely on me absolutely. I promise I’ll do this for you.’

      ‘You’re quite sure?’

      ‘Positive.’

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